Memoirs from Vegeta
by StrangeSolstice
Summary: What if Trunks were to see the world through the eyes of a father he never knew? With the help of a cocky immortal, he just *might* be able to achieve it...
1. Default Chapter

Hmm...first attempt at a DBZ fic. =) Please read and review. No, I don't own any of the characters, so nobody sue, 'cuz all I have is five bucks pocket money and a bunch of lint. Revising the story. Yay!!! *calms down* Okay, this is GT (Grand Tour) Trunks we're dealing with. I know, it's kind of weird. The father-son stories are mostly done on Vegeta and Mirai Trunks, but I wanted to take a look at Vegeta and _GT_ Trunks. Let's give this a shot…  
  
"You like to think you're never wrong,  
You like to act like you're someone,  
You want someone to hurt like you,  
You want to share what you've been through…"  
-Linkin Park, "Points of Authority" 

The silence was deafening. Trunks felt it become something he could taste and smell, something that stripped away flesh and bone and a complex web of emotions, leaving behind a naked inner core. He listened to it, a thousand questions forming a vortex in his mind, adding their screeches to the quiet that thundered in his ears. But the one question that refused to go away, that did _not_ flicker back and forth but remained constant gnawed at him. He glanced over at the figure seated to his right, and smirked even as the inquiry burned itself deeper into his mind.

What the hell is he doing here? Had nothing better to do than kill time with me? Than to come out here and do nothing but sit? There's got to be a reason. She kick him out of bed again? Most likely. No...that can't be. It's broad daylight. Why_ would he leave the house to plunk himself down next to me and do nothing but stare into space?_

A frigid breeze violated his train of thought, running cold fingers over exposed flesh. He sat back and allowed the draft to seize his lips in a kiss, to envelope him in its savage embrace. He lost himself for a moment, in the arms of recollection.

"How long have you been sitting like this?"

Startled, Trunks glanced up.

Did the Almighty Prince of Saiya-jins just speak to me? he wondered, wry amusement washing over every other emotion. Not that his father _never_ spoke to him.

Yeah, he talks to me, Trunks mused. _Once every ten years._ He repressed a snicker that dwelt somewhere in the spaces between bitterness and exasperation. When he looked up again, he noted the irritation written on Vegeta's face. Irritation at lack of a reply.

"Uh...not that long. I'll be headed back soon."

Vegeta said nothing, just continued his staring match with empty air.

Trunks couldn't help but stare for a moment, at his father's side profile. The little illumination that remained made the Saiya-jin prince appear as a sort of creature made from both shadow and light.

More shadow than light, I suppose. I wonder what he's thinking right now?

Trunks narrowed his eyes, concentrated. A prince, son of royalty who'd clutched at his birthright through the stormiest of weather. A mortal, desperately trying to overcome the challenges this world presented to him.

Haven't ever seen the "mortal" side. The way he acts...it's like he's unkillable.

But he saw something else behind his father's eyes, as well. Memories of some unfathomable, disturbed past that he'd never heard of. Questions, fears, wonder. And Trunks marvelled.

The wind sighed once more, and his father seemed to sigh with it, though he made no sound at all. Rising, Vegeta began striding from his sitting place, leaving Trunks to stare after him, eyes narrowed.

Shadow creature. Illusive, something not of this world. I'll never understand you, will I?

A bird called, mocking his unspoken words. He glanced upwards, then leaned forwards, grasping his knees to his chest, reveling in the quiet of eventide. Vegeta was gone.

Why had he arrived in the first place?

Hey. Wait a second. What's this?

He reached over and grasped it, turning the object over and over in his hand.

Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled, and the first drops of rain made their mark. He stood, hesitated, then tucked the object away and began heading for home, the breeze soughing in his ears.


	2. Not Room for A Whisper

Heh...the second chapter. I don't exactly have a title for the series in general...I'll think of something eventually. All right, here goes the disclaimer. I've been informed by several veteran fanfic writers that I'll eventually go insane from typing up disclaimers. Oh well...c'est la vie. =) I don't own any of the DBZ characters. (Wow...that was original.)  
  
Bulma glanced up as her rain-soaked son hauled himself indoors. A smile seducedits way onto her face, and she rose from the couch, grabbing the towel at her side and handing it to him. Trunks accepted it gratefully, and Bulma smirked.  
  
"See? I'm always one step ahead of you," she teased. "Remember the time you tried to hide you-"  
  
Trunks cut her off with a sharp cough as the back of Vegeta's head appeared and then vanished, mumbling a thank you and disappearing himself. Bulma sighed and said something about a forged report card, a deal of secrecy struck between mother and son, and the ungratefulness of a child.  
  
She'd also found a great disliking towards school counselors.  
  
Trunks collapsed on his bed, reached over and quickly flipped off the radio and the music it had been spouting. "Who set it to that station?" he wondered, then shuddered. Salsa music had always been terrifying beyond all mortal reason in his eyes.  
  
Reclining comfortably, Trunks reached into his pocket and got ready to withdraw the item he'd found outdoors in the pouring rain. He dug further, then sat up, an expression that was both vexed and puzzled pasted onto his features.  
  
How?...I could have sworn...  
  
His mind's eye began forming a picture of the object, although he hadn't been able to get a clear view of it, the darkening clouds obscuring his vision.  
  
A stylized triange, cold, hard and metallic, the tips and center gleaming in what little light there was. He turned it over and over, running his fingers up and down the seemingly frail metal bars that comrpised it.  
  
For a moment, he thought he felt power pulsing from the triangular thing. Shifting uncomfortably, he jammed it into his left pocket and began heading for home.  
  
"Looking for something?"  
  
Trunks whirled, tensing. Adrenaline pumped itself into his veins, alarm screamed through his being. The somebody stayed back, half hidden by a robe of darkness, making Trunks wish that his room had a better lighting system.  
  
"Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my room?"  
  
The somebody spoke, voice harsh and tight with control. Female. Definately female.  
  
"I am the Keeper of Light and Dark, the Eternal One who controls All. I've journeyed from a land- aw, screw it. Call me Mary Sue. I'm here to make a deal."  
  
Trunks smirked despite himself. "Nice wording. Now show yourself."  
  
She stepped from the shadows, this woman wearing a business suit, high heels and cheap perfume. Blonde hair tied back in a messy bun, she radiated a frustration and vulnerability that stunned him.  
  
Hang on a second. Shouldn't I be shocked? There's a, ah...woman...who somehow appeared out of nowhere and just made a place for herself in my bedroom. Now, is that good or bad?  
  
"I don't have much time. I want you to prepare for anything. I'm going to place you in a situation you'll truly hate me for afterwards," she grinned. For a moment, the woman reminded Trunks of a horse, a wild horse, mane tousled, eyes gleaming wickedly under a harsh light./p  
  
Okay, that's bad.  
  
The current fix was ultimately bizarre, strange, and uncomfortable. At least it should have felt that way to Trunks. But a strange sort of apathy had him in a deadly hammerlock, and he did nothing, even as she moved towards him and extended a bone-thin hand. The cool fingers brushed his forehead, and for a moment in time, he thought he heard her sigh before everything exploded in a flash of white light. He was falling, not room for a whisper in the crevices of a mind that was telling him how wrong this was.  
  
Cripes, that's gotta be bthe/b strangest thing I've ever written. I mean, recap, and you'll agree: Trunks walks in after standing in a storm, finds a woman in his bedroom who transports him in the Land of White Light. Hmmm... 


	3. Halfling

I don't own any of the DBZ characters...heck, don't own much. I'm just borrowing them. Happy?...good.  
  
Someone was whispering in his ear, telling him to wake up. He rolled over, instinctively groping for the alarm clock at his side. He was surprised when his hand made a sharp connection with flesh, when somebody yelped "Ow! Stupid kid..." and sashayed a few steps away from him. He opened his eyes, feeling lightheaded and dazed, then shut them, wishing he'd never been able to see in the first place.  
  
usiness suit. Gray, to be specific. Messy blonde hair. Brown eyes.  
  
"You!" Trunks sat up, eyes darting around the enclosure for some semblance of familiarity. He found none; the room...if it was a room...was plunged into darkness, not a spark to light it.  
  
Then how in the world was he able to make out every thread of cloth, every strand of hair on the woman as though it were mid day?  
  
He narrowed his eyes. Was he seeing things? No. She seemed to be on fire with a soft glow of washed out blue light. Trunks scrambled to his feet, alarmed. "Could you...please..." he looked at her, imploring her with his gaze.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Change your expression? I'm getting kind of...ah...tired of seeing it."  
  
Her face softened, going from cocky smirk to wan smile, and she gave a chuckle. "Well, I don't get that request all too often. Ah well. That's sort of the reason I brought you hear. Siddown, kid."  
  
"It's Trunks."  
  
"Uh-huh. Whatever you say. Have a seat."  
  
"Where?"  
  
She glanced at him incredulously. "The floor's always open, kid."  
  
"Trunks."  
  
"Uh-huh. Now sit."  
  
This is insane, Trunks thought, folding his legs underneath himself and sinking wearily to the ground. Completely, totally, insane. How can I be so calm? I don't know where I am or who she is. Must be some sort of hold she has over me.that's it, he mused lethargically.  
  
A light flickered in the background, and for a moment, Trunks caught a glimpse of a round, circular object that appeared to be floating. The light flashed once more, and this time was followed by the soft rumble of what sounded like thunder.  
  
The woman turned at the sound, then turned back and grasped his hands in a steel-like grip. Frantic eyes bored a hole into his mind. "I'll make this quick; we don't have much time, kid." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  
  
"I know this'll sound weird beyond all reason, but you're gonna have to trust me and be totally honest. Or it won't work."  
  
"What won't work? And who are you?"  
  
"There'll be time for me to explain the purpose of this later. Now I need you to answer my question, I repeat, as honestly as you can."  
  
"All right."  
  
"Trunks, what do you think of your father?"  
  
The question was so blunt and unpolished, it sent Trunks' mind reeling. Nobody but Bulma openly addressed him on his relationship with the Saiya- jin prince, and that was only when his mother was absolutely forced to. His mind dragged him kicking and screaming back into the recesses of yesterday.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"I...uh..."  
  
"Listen kid, we don't got all day. Answer the question."  
  
Trunks stared for a second longer, then, sensing the urgency of the situation, began to speak.  
  
"He's not exactly what you'd consider a leading figure. To me, at least." Trunks shifted, entering a zone of extreme discomfort at having to answer to quickly, at the blue eyes that seemed determined to reduce him to the size of a scrawny, underfed ant. He continued, struggling for words. "I guess you could say we don't exactly get along too well."  
  
Halfling. Weakling.  
  
"Tell me something, Trunks. Do you feel inferior either compared to him or in his eyes?"  
  
Just what I needed. Little miss Mary Sue's a shrink, he thought, unable to stop the corner of his mouth from quirking upwards ever so slightly.  
  
"Yes," he replied automatically.  
  
"Trunks," she warned with a toss of her head, "this isn't a game. Spill it. Now."  
  
"Yes." Pause. Suddenly, Trunks felt as if he were in his own personal world. He wasn't talking to "Little Miss Mary Sue," but to himself. He'd hit something completely, totally, and brutally honest. Something he hated, but had to face anyhow.  
  
"Yes, he makes me feel inferior." The rawness was there, in his tone of voice, unconcealed. A bitter smile crossed his face, voice hardening by the second. "He's never accepted me, and never will. I'm the mistake. The freak that somehow happened."  
  
"You hate him?"  
  
"I want to."  
  
"Do you ever wonder about him?"  
  
He saw something else behind his father's eyes, as well. Memories of some unfathomable, disturbed past that he'd never heard of...  
  
"Only all the time."  
  
"What do you wonder about?"  
  
"Him." The questions had been coming hard and fast; the small retinence was a welcome reprise. "Just him," Trunks replied, almost desperately. "The Saiya-jin prince. The slayer of many. The one who hates Frieza with everything in his being. The immortal."  
  
She smiled at the answer, then stood. "Excellent. That's all I needed to hear, kid."  
  
She began to retreat, and Trunks immediately began to follow out of pure habit. She raised a hand to stop him.  
  
"No, kiddo. You're staying right where you are." She grinned. "Halfling."  
  
His vision blurred before him; he lost consciousness for what seemed like a few seconds. When he finally came back to reality, he noted with great chagrin his father standing over him, looking very, very displeased. Well, what did he expect? Perfection?  
  
Trunks sat up, pain zinging through his body. Bruises marred his flesh, some of the fresher ones spreading like spilled wine. He winced as he found his feet, then braced himself for a verbal assault, preparing to hear the word "weak" several times over.  
  
It came and went, as was the norm. Finally, Vegeta retreated, uttering one last word.  
  
"Halfling."  
  
As if it were his fault for being who he was. As if it were his mother's fault for being born human.  
  
Halfling.  
  
"Don't. Call. Me. That."  
  
But she was gone, and he had the strangest sensation burning on his skin. He glanced down at his hand, and gasped. His palm, his fingers, were blue, the same pale, washed out sort of blue that the woman had emitted. His gaze turned upwards involuntarily as a wind filled the chamber, growing more and more violent by the minute. The flashback of the training session he'd indulged himself in all but enhanced itself, becoming stronger and stronger till it was reality. Scorn filled his being, and he was looking down at himself, lying on the floor, beaten, battered, but not broken.  
  
And then the memories came, spilling like floodtide through his mind. Memories that weren't his own.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Mary Sue," watched as Trunks' body convulsed, went limp, and finally lay still on the bed in his room. She checked her watch. Ten minutes to go. In ten minutes, he'd have seen the world...no, the universe through his father's eyes. He'd be halfway there. The other half; well, that was up to time, chance, Trunks and Vegeta themselves, and much, much more.  
  
As for who she was, and who she worked for, well, that would come later.  
  
The woman reached over and picked up a random comic book, glancing over at the motionless form, then giving a shrug and opening the manuscript. She had ten minutes, and it had been a hectic day. Why not hunker down and read something?  
  
The halfling would soon be enlightened.  
  
Okly-dokly...this was kind of a spinoff on Animorphs, from me, the Girl Who's Gone Through Too Many Fandoms to Count. And yes, most of the fandoms I've gone through are widly different from each other. For anyone who does read Animorphs, remember the the entire "torture scene" in which Tobias has acquired some of Elfangor's memories? I got to wondering what would happen if the same occured for Trunks. *shrugs and walks off* that is all. 


	4. For Country, For Honor...For Mr Bear!

Yep, next chapter's up.  
  
I believe I was asked who "Mary Sue" was supposed to be and why she needed to know how Trunks felt towards his father. =) I clarify slightly on who she is in this section...but why she needed to know? That comes later.  
  
::Trunks. I need you to listen to me for a second.::  
  
Irritated, Trunks tuned in, never taking his eyes off the landscape before him. Wind whistled through his hair, running its fingers over a barren plain. The breeze seemed to be the only thing creating any sort of noise.  
  
::I'm listening. What's going on?::  
  
::Trunks, first thing's first. You should know who I am.::  
  
::Geez, do you think?!::  
  
::Well...yeah. My name's not Mary Sue, for starters. Call me Tequila.::  
  
::"Call you" Tequila?::  
  
::All right. My name's Tequila, no I'm not an alchoholic, and if I hear one bad pun, you're stranded, mister.::  
  
::What about a good pun?::  
  
::Shut up. Now pay attention. I was sent specifically to transpose you to where you are right now. Walk eastwards a little bit, I'll stay with you. You'll find a creek; it's a small creek, but check it out anyway.::  
  
Trunks ran a hand over his eyes, wondering at the curious order. He found his footing and began striding eastwards, not making haste at all. She put him through this, she was wasting his time. He'd take as long as he wanted. Trunks allows his eyes to survey all that lay before him; left right, back and forth. Waving plains of grass as far as the eye could see. He squinted, able to make out small ridges somewhere on the horizon. Suddenly, Tequila's voice was in his head once more.  
  
Those are mountains you're seeing there. I know they look small, but wait till you get up close.  
  
::Wait till I get my revenge on you, he replied casually. Trust me, it won't be pretty...::  
  
::Whatever. Hey, found the creek yet?::  
  
::Yeah. And I'm also noticing the ground looks a bit close.::  
  
::Ah..heh...yeah. I was gonna break that news to you.::  
  
::Don't tell me. You've put me in someone else's body.::  
  
::Uh...yes.::  
  
::Namely, my father's.::  
  
::You betcha.::  
  
::I'm going to kill you when this is over.::  
  
::Just try it. Well, thanks for spoiling the surprise! The object of the entire walking around trying to find this creek was for me to be able to get some satisfaction out of seeing your face when you saw your reflection. Do you enjoy wrecking things for overstressed ladies like me?::  
  
::Yes. And weren't you going to explain who you were, what the purpose of this is?::  
  
::First off, there are some things you should know about me. I'm not human, or Saiya-jin, or whatever.::  
  
::Then what are you?::  
  
::Nobody really knows. I don't really know. I was human a long, long time ago, a defiant human who disobeyed and was cursed to live forever. But that's a different story. I'm the busybody of the universe and beyond. And I enjoy it. You interest me. Your relationship with Prince Vegeta interests me. I don't usually step in like this, but I was bored.::  
  
::Ha. You've never tried watching daytime TV, have you?::  
  
::No, and I don't intend to.::  
  
For the first time, Trunks detected something in her voice: a regal sort of frostiness that hadn't been there before. He straightened, and listened as she continued.  
  
::I've placed you in your father's body for a good reason, kid. You wanna come to better understand him? Ya gotta go through what's comprised his life, what's made him who he is. In three minutes, you're going to lose control of yourself. Your actions will be Vegeta's, you'll be spectator in his body, and transported from here to the throneroom.::  
  
::The throneroom?::  
  
::King Vegeta's throneroom, to be specific. And when you come back to reality, his memories will be yours as well. May it bring you greater understanding for him.::  
  
Trunks felt a sense of panic as her prescence began to fade from his mind, grappled with his own emotions for awhile, and finally found the focus that he'd sought. He felt everything real begin to slip out of his grasp. Finally, Tequila was no longer there. He'd never felt more isolated, more alone...more...  
  
"Are you listening to me, boy?"  
  
He glanced up, no more than a small youngster, just come out of toddlerhood. Brow previously furrowed in concentration was now set in an ill-tempered scowl. The woman gazed back down at him, gaze of stone hiding a deep affection and love. Strands of black hair, normally as wild and rebellious as the Saiya- jins themselves, hung lank and lackluster against her shoulders. Proof of the years after childbirth.  
  
Vegeta, I'm going to repeat myself, and this time you'd better be listening."  
  
He'd heard that tone of voice before, and he knew not to disobey. Bringing his gaze upwards, he met his mother's dark eyes and put on what he thought looked like a charming expression. She frowned.  
  
"Stop that; your face might actually stay that way, you know? Now listen, and listen well. You're in a lot of trouble for that stunt you pulled today. If I deemed you to be a more responsible child, I'd ask you how you'd like to be punished. But seeing that you are the way you are, I'll choose the consequence myself. Be glad your father never heard of this."  
  
Crestfallen, Vegeta slouched in his seat, vacantly taking account of his surroundings. His father's throneroom, nothing new. Same furnishings, same affectation of formality, same scent. Minus King Vegeta, of course.  
  
"You're to be confined to your room for the entire..."  
  
Vegeta laughed silently as he saw his mother's mouth quirk downwards. He knew very well that she was struggling to harden herself; she'd always been the more indulgent parent of the two.  
  
"...for the rest of this hour. Now go."  
  
King Vegeta's mate reached down, one slender arm enfolding her son, pressing him against the folds of the casual robe she wore. The woman began hustling her son out the doorway and towards his own chambers.  
  
Vegeta wanted to freeze this moment in time, enfolded in the familiar arms, surrounded by things he knew.  
  
Everything he knew.  
  
A slight disturbance uncoiled in the back of his mind. A sixth sense.  
  
He brushed it off.  
  
His mother was the only female that he knew on a personal basis. Other than involving a parent-child status, he had no idea how to react to members of the opposite gender, how they should be treated. And he didn't really care, either. All that existed was the world inside, the one his mother tried so desperately to retain, the one his father had time and time again tried to force him out of.  
  
Not that his father mistreated him; on the contrary, he knew he was loved. Vegeta also knew that there was tension between his parents, and that there had been for a long, long time. The little skirmishes and "border wars" that broke out between them time and time again lead to confusion, chaos, and more confusion.  
  
He'd never had the idea that either of his parents would decide it was "over." Ties ran strong between mates of his kind; it was a sort of death-defying power that exceeded his knowledge. He knew it existed, however.  
  
But if there was one thing Vegeta's parents refused to argue about, it was his overall attitude and mentality. They'd stepped back, watched it develop, and loved what they saw. A young boy, fiercely patriotic towards his land, his race, the patriotism fired with an unspeakable amount of pride, something both parents were certain would flare into sheer arrogance in later years. A longing for battle, and as a blessing, curse, and bonus, the need to wreak havoc.  
  
Vegeta's mother seated herself on the edge of his mattress, watching as he tumbled forwards, then settled in her lap.  
  
"When's tousaan going to be home?"  
  
Was it just him, or did Vegeta see a small twitch to his mother's face, a quiver in the normally composed voice.  
  
"He's...still busy right now. But I assure you, he'll be home before tomorrow."  
  
Vegeta's thoughts settled. She was right, after all. She was always right.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kita left Vegeta's chambers, shutting her son's door softly after her departure. Then, she, mate to King Vegeta, Saiya-jin Queen, leaned against the wall, turned her gaze skywards and let out an almighty sigh. Worry occupied her every thought; she embodied fear and trepidation at the moment. In the dim light, a tear glistened in her eye, a tear that did not fall.  
  
She ached for her husband's safe return, burned to feel his lips against her's, longed for his embrace.  
  
"He'll be back before tomorrow."  
  
How could she lie to her son that way? She had no idea when he was going to be back. But she did know one thing:  
  
When Frieza summoned, you answered instantly if you valued your life.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Tequila "Mary Sue" watched Trunks' impassive face. Half a second had passed. She put down the comic book, wondering why she'd disobeyed in the first place. If playing with mortals was her idea of entertainment, she realized that she seriously needed to re-assess her life. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled the triangular object she'd dropped near Vegeta's sitting spot, the one that Trunks had picked up. Her power source; the thing that made her as mighty as she was.  
  
The thing that helped me track down the kid, she added with a mental smirk. Reaching over, Tequila sought out the stuffed bear that had been sitting on Trunks' bed, now lying forlornly on the floor.  
  
"Big tough kid with big tough attitude owns a teddy bear. Go figure." She made the stuffed animal moonwalk across the desk, putting on a falsetto voice and speaking.  
  
"For country, for honor, and for Mr. Bear!"  
  
Holy crap. I a.) need a life and b.) am really, really, bored. I guess I  
  
should have thought twice before crossing a cranky dictator of a sorceress. C'est la vie.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Hey, this is ME the author talking. XD Laughing at Mr. Bear, eh? WELL DON'T! MR BEAR WILL SOON HAVE WORLD DOMINATION! *pants* there goes my voice. Later! -StrangeSolstice 


	5. Innocent Stain

Nope...I don't own any of the DBZ characters...not making any money out of this, so on and so forth.  
  
ARGH! I'm not even sure what to classify this story as...I had it under Action/Adventure and Humor, (this originally was not supposed to be a serious-type story), then somehow it evolved into a drama. Oh well...what can ya do? *starts putting on protective armor* gear up people...it's time to introduce the guy(?) we all love to hate: Frieza.  
  
BTW, this chapter has an NC-17 rating. For suicide content.  
  
"NO!"  
  
The expensive glass ornament shattered against the wall, and King Vegeta cringed in surprise when he felt his mate's ki flare to an unbelievable level. Kita's cheeks were flushed with rage, her usual first reaction, something that overpowered common sense most of the time. The Saiya-jin king and queen had locked themselves into their chambers, Kita all but glad to see him home. They'd lost themselves in pleasure for awhile, til the question became inevitable.  
  
"What did he want?"  
  
The Saiya-jin ruler was silent for a moment, a whirlpool of emotions pulling him downwards. He shook his head; no, not now. Not after he'd spent so many years learning the fine art of walking the thin line between being in control of one's emotions and becoming completely devoid of them. She'd gazed up at him, eyes pleading, imploring. Trusting.  
  
Oh so trusting.  
  
And he hadn't been able to bring himself to lie to soft, doe-like brown orbs, the round, sweet face.  
  
He'd told her.  
  
And she'd given a violent reaction.  
  
And this surprises you? He asked himself. For a woman of her bloodline, she was raised in a rowdy household. Sometimes I think it's the only way Kita can respond.  
  
"No," she repeated, her voice more level this time. He turned to find her standing, half clothed, panting and glaring her anger. Suddenly, his own anger surged forwards, and he grasped her bare shoulders.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"I said no. He won't have the boy; he'll have to get through me, first."  
  
"And he'll do just that! You know Frieza, I know Frieza. He gets what he wants, when he wants, and nothing's ever stood in his way and not been cut to shreds."  
  
Kita's eyes suddenly went blank, glistening in the pre-dawn light. Though her posture and tone of voice were more controlled, King Vegeta sensed an unspeakable amount of sorrow and rage that lay beneath the surface. He took his hands from her shoulders; physical touch didn't sit well with her when she was angry.  
  
"He won't have my son. That's the last word," she snapped, seating herself on the edge of the bed in one tart motion. King Vegeta seated himself beside her. He inhaled sharply.  
  
She's right, he mused, the thought springing unbidden into his head. How could you have said yes to such a request?  
  
Another voice sprang forwards with a ferocity that alarmed him, conjuring up feelings of denial and the need for justification at once.  
  
What are you talking about? The voice screamed. The fate of an entire race, an ancient race, your race, and the life of one small boy? Isn't the choice obvious? Tell her, tell her! it pleaded.  
  
"Kita, you've felt this coming for a long time, and so have I. Frieza's not stupid, nor is he blind. And Vegeta...he's...headstrong. And strong in many other ways. I knew Frieza would notice someday. The future's arrived. There's no denying that." He grasped his lower lip with his front teeth, trying his hardest to weigh his next words carefully. "For the good of the people."  
  
Silence.  
  
Vegeta took his mate's face, cupping it between his hands in an unusually affectionate gesture. "He's afraid of our son," the man clarified.  
  
And he should be, the unspoken phrase, lingering somewhere in the air./p Kita tensed, eyes flashing. "Ah, I see. The wellfare of people you hardly know is more important than that of the son of your body. Is that right? I'm right, am I not? I..." her cheeks flushed once more, and King Vegeta tensed, preparing for another verbal onslaught. He was surprised when she seemed to deflate, then crumpled into his arms, breath coming out in deep, ragged sobs.  
  
He crushed her to him, feeling as though he were clinging onto something more infinately precious than his people, his wife, his son, his world. She lifted a tear-streaked face to gaze at the wall.  
  
"I hate you."  
  
You have every right to, he replied silently, even as the shadows swirled around him, tainting him, staining him with their darkness.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
He left the next day. Prince Vegeta bid farewell to everything he'd known under a facade of lies and false promises of the rewards he'd recieve when he returned. He could sense something behind his mother's eyes, feel an emotion so intense its waves were almost palpable.  
  
But nothing bad was going to happen; he knew. Kasaan had told him so, and she was always right.  
  
---The sound of running water from one the fountains filled his ears. His mother and several other women sat in a lighted corner of a room awash with warmth. He couldn't see his father, but he could feel his ki, and knew he was somewhere within these safe confines. Something sweet was on his tongue, and he chewed and swallowed the last of it with great care. He'd taken after his mother in the aspect of reveling in every small sensation.---  
  
---He shifted his position and found himself sitting upon the trailing wallhanging, its edges running over the floor. The fabric felt smooth, cool, underneath his flesh. Slowly, his eyes began to close and he was spiraling into---  
  
Into a new dimension. Vegeta opened his eyes, the images still lingering slightly. He took stock of his surroundings: bare steel walls, the slight lurching sensation of motion. Nappa seated directly in front of him, a nameless Saiya-jin beside Nappa staring vacantly.  
  
He'd never seen much of Nappa, nor did he care much for him. As far as Vegeta knew, the hulking brute of a being had been one of the key figures in his father's forces, a key figure that had faded into the background after awhile.  
  
So the rumors were true then? he mused. He did turn traitor. He's been working for Frieza.  
  
Another voice cut in. No, no. That can't be right. It was probably Frieza's doing. As far as I know, he has the best pick of all of Father's fighters. Then...who's the other Saiya-jin?  
  
Nappa gave the prince a careless glance, then turned his face away. Not used to being overlooked, Vegeta rose from his seat and began striding over. To emphasize: he did not particularly care for Nappa, but he was a Saiya-jin, and the closest thing to home Vegeta had.  
  
Vegeta seated himself beside Nappa wordlessly, then began to speak, his sentances choppy, allowing his thoughts to take control. "Kasaan says she'll see me soon," he began with all the confidence of a child who didn't know the meaning of 'broken promise'. "But I never really wanted to come along. Tousaan said I had to, though. What do you think Frieza-"  
  
He was cut off by a short, harsh round of laughter. The nameless Saiya-jin chuckled. "The kid's smart. Naive, too. Frieza's gonna enjoy this."  
  
Vegeta felt his temper began to flare. He'd inherited it from his mother, and to top things off, wasn't used to being interupted. Nappa gave a world- weary sigh.  
  
"Ignore Raditz, kid."  
  
Kid?!  
  
"MynameisVegitaandI'myourprince," he slurred through clenched teeth. Raditz laughed again.  
  
"I'll tell you what you're about to be. Broken." A bitter, knowing laugh. "Damn Ice-jin takes pleasure in introducing new recruits to his authority."  
  
Broken.  
  
The word echoed in his head and stayed there for a long, long time.  
  
"What are you doing out of your seat?"  
  
Vegeta turned his head at the sound of the voice that grated on his ears. He caught sight of a semi-familiar figure.  
  
Trademark green hair and smirk. Zarbon's smirk.  
  
Vegeta had seen Zarbon one or two times, and had brushed him off as nothing too significant. Now, as Zarbon approached, something almost instinctive clicked in the back of his head.  
  
--Stand your ground, keep the upper hand.--  
  
His mother, his father. Both strong in their own ways. He intended to carry on. Lifting his gaze, he met Zarbon's eyes head-on. Frieza's aide-de-camp kept his face carefully blank, though his eyes narrowed slightly. The vaguely feminine visage had worn many emotions; the young prince could tell.  
  
"Get back in your seat."  
  
Vegeta watched as Zarbon turned, booted feet making soft padding noises on the ship's floor. The fighter and strategist entered a code and then watched with great disinterest as a pannel slid open. He began to enter.  
  
Vegeta contemplated a bit, then gave a reply. "No."  
  
"What did you just say?"  
  
Vegeta, getting the indeterminate feeling that he'd made a mistake also sensed Nappa tense beside him, felt Raditz' interest level go up a notch. He shruged off his discomfort, reasoning to himself that if he merely stated his decision again, asked politely, he'd be indulged.  
  
"I'd like to sit here."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Please."  
  
"Get back in your seat."  
  
"But I like it here."  
  
Zarbon's eyes flared to life under a hooded brow. "Damn Saiya-jin," he hissed, pronouncing 'Saiya-jin' as though it were a derogatory term. "Get back in the damn seat. Don't make me put you in your place; I don't have the time, and it probably isn't worth the effort."  
  
Vegeta's anger sparked, then burst into flame, bringing blood rushing to his cheeks. Nobody was going to tell him no, especially in such a rude way, especially if that someone was not of his own kind. His fists clenched and unclenched in an almost spasmodic gesture.  
  
"I'm staying here."  
  
Zarbon's intial shock faded, the expression replaced by further anger, and then amusement. "All right. Have it your way."  
  
Even as Zarbon began to retreat, Vegeta noted the look of concern that Nappa and Raditz wore. Raditz crossed his legs and relaxed after a few moments.  
  
"Our prince has a death wish," he said mockingly. "Such a shame. Getting off on the wrong foot with Frieza or his officers is a mistake." He shook his head. "And all over seating arrangement."  
  
Vegeta felt his stomach clench. And for the first time, it hit him: something was dead wrong.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Zarbon eyed the back of Vegeta's head as he marched down the long, seemingly never ending corridor that lead to Frieza's chamber. For a second, a pang of regret struck him as he recalled the fire in the boy's eyes when he'd informed him he was staying in the seat of his choice. Such spirit shouldn't be broken, he mused to himself. It should be nurtured.  
  
He crushed the thought with a deft mental motion as they came before Frieza. The words of introduction and formalities fell upon his deaf ears. All Zarbon saw was the Saiya-jin prince's guarded expression, the affectation of pride he projected, the way his humble words sounded anything but humble. Freiza apparently noticed this as well; dark eyes narrowed, then widened, then narrowed again.  
  
"Zarbon."  
  
Zarbon jerked, startled into awareness by the familiar tone.  
  
Pale skin rolled over the muscles beneath it as the tyrant shifted in his seat. A smile crossed his face; it looked like a mix between something truly malevolent and the gape grin of a child who'd just recieved a new toy.  
  
"Lord Frieza?"  
  
"Did he give you any problems on the way here?"  
  
There was a silence.  
  
Compassion? Zarbon wondered. Now? For the runt?  
  
"Yes."  
  
Knowing Frieza, he won't ask questions. He won't find time or space for mercy. He'll just-  
  
Zarbon was startled out of his thoughts once more when Frieza's feet touched the ground, and he began stalking towards the child.  
  
Vegeta watched as the tyrant stepped closer, closer, closer. He brushed his fears away with a blunt, emotional hand, and straightened. Frieza circled him several times before coming to a stop in front of him.  
  
"So...you've decided to cause trouble already, have you?"  
  
The accusation was the last straw. Vegeta had been (he now believed) trick into leaving home, ordered around (something he was completely unused to), had recieved implications that he was completely inferior to a universe he'd just been introduced to, and had already been struggling to control his now overflowing temper.  
  
"I did not disobey any orders. I don't even know why I'm here! Why did you send for me? What do you want?" his voice rose a notch with each word, ending in a broken wail that bordered grief, an emotion overpowered by a toxic anger that he drank greedily of. He needed it; it kept him from breaking down. The last thing Vegeta had on his "to do" list was to give Frieza the satisfaction of tears.  
  
A corner of the tyrant's mouth gave a downwards motion. He paused, all save the tail that continued to flick restlessly back and forth. "I don't like mouthy youngsters," he said amicably, matter-of-factly. Young though he was, Vegeta was able to sense the sinister undercurrent that came was the falsetto friendliness.  
  
What he didn't notice were the subtle hints; the tensing of muscle, the flash of anticipation in Frieza's eyes. He reacted too late when the first blow fell, followed by a shower of them.  
  
Everything was a haze of red; his own blood in his eyes, his own anger clouding his judgement. What training he'd been put through slipped away, and he fought back wildly, lashing out in an irrational attempt to free himself. Frieza stopped the onslaught for just a moment, surprised by the vivacity of the young Saiya-jin. His surprise was quickly crushed by scorn as he took the iron rod that had sat virtually unnoticed at his side.  
  
Unnoticed til now.  
  
The bar cut sharply through still air, coming to connect with Vegeta's skull. Not enough to kill him or even send him into unconsciousness, but enough to stun him badly. The second blow connected with his ribs, and the sickening crunch of shattered bone sounded out in the otherwise silent room. The boy retched once, blood blossoming in ribbons of shameless scarlet and cascading down his chin.  
  
The bar came down once more, nicking Vegeta's nosebridge hard enough to draw more blood. There was a resounding clang, buzzing through the youngling's ears.  
  
--Kita's eyes burned a hole into his heart, into his existance. He couldn't meet her gaze.--  
  
--"Be a good boy, you hear me?"--  
  
--He nodded almost automatically. It was order he'd been given time and time again, but didn't usually follow.--  
  
--"I love you."--  
  
--The words that spilled from his mother's mouth were so final, filled with such weight that he forced himself to sneak a glance at her, then his father. Both stood silent, somber, as though there was some impending danger that they knew they could not stop.--  
  
--"It's going to be a long journey to Lord Frie-" she paused. "It's going to be a long journey. Try to sleep, child."--  
  
--Sleep child.--  
  
Oh, how he longed for the humid heat of the palace once more, the simple vastness of his father's throneroom, the arms of his mother, the appraising eyes of his father. He wanted to hear the musical sounds of a hundred fountains spouting streams of clean, cool water.  
  
He closed his eyes, and suddenly, he was no longer in pain. He was walking down the corridors, a relief from the heat of day. The rich furnishings of the palace fell upon his eyes.  
  
--"We Saiya-jins are an ancient breed. We began as simple nomads and wanderers, warlike tribes that honed their skills as fighters. A great pride has always run deep amongst us."--  
  
--In his thoughts, Vegeta paused for a second to take in the carvings in the wall. Their brilliance was gone; age had made sure of that. But they still seemed to sparkle, singing their song to him through the years, telling him the story of yesterday.--  
  
--"This terrain, this is what we have always loved. One another, that is what we have always loved. Though we are a bellicose race, unity runs strong here. Saiya-jins were not meant to battle other Saiya-jins."--  
  
--Vegeta wasn't in the palace anymore; he was standing with his father, looking over the rolling plains and mountains, the dense, verdant jungles, that made up his home. All of it covered in a fiery, seductive heat.--  
  
--"We are Saiya-jins."--  
  
The clank of metal brought him back to reality, his teacher's voice fading from his ears. Vegeta lay on the floor, a wreck. He fixed his gaze on the iron rod that lay beside him, penetrating it with hatred, cursing this new authority in his life. Cursing his parents for lying to him. Trying to bring himself to hate them and failing miserably.  
  
He hadn't shed a single tear through the entire ordeal. And that thought alone made him glad.  
  
That twisted sort of gladness wrapped itself around him even as he began to spiral into darkness, the cadences of Frieza's scornful voice fading in his ears. When he finally came to, he was alone, it was dark, and cold. Something was cushioning his side, a thin blanket wrapped around him. He clutched it as though his life depended on that zephyr of an object.  
  
Making sure he was alone in the room, Vegeta finally let a single tear cut its path, hating and grieving and fuming all at once, watching a small bruise began to spread on his wrist. A stain.  
  
But it seemed so innocent a stain, a soft violet-purple color, edges muted.  
  
He watched it, fascinated, then, for the first time noticed that Raditz had been seated a few feet away from him. The older Saiya-jin was giving him a pitying glance, then turned his attention towards a female figure in shadows. She was leaning over a table, muttering darkly.  
  
"Frieza. Again," her voice complained. "Someday, the Ice-jin's going to get it."  
  
"I'd be careful, Reita," Raditz warned, then shot another glance at his prince's prone form.  
  
It angered Vegeta to see that gaze, so filled with compassion.  
  
It angered him beyond belief.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
--Kita's entire body was tensed, ever muscle rigid. The glass ball in her hands shimmered in the dying light; she was trying hard not to drop it. It radiated a vulnerability and fragility that aroused every maternal instinct within her.  
  
Somebody was pleading with her, asking her not to let go. Begging her not to let go.  
  
But the iron rod came down faster than she'd have time to react to, knocking the precious item from her hand. It shattered into a million pieces on the floor, her own scream resounding in her ears.--  
  
Kita woke up.  
  
Everything was clear now. Everything. She glanced dispassionately at her beloved mate, asleep beside her. No matter; she'd given him her very best that night. It was farewell enough.  
  
She stepped out of bed, the cool night air sliding over her skin. Out of the chambers, something clutched in her hand. A nighttime run up a flight of steps, straight into her son's chamber.  
  
Bond between Saiya-jin parent and child. Sacred. Strong. Almost as strong as that between mates.  
  
Powerful. Intoxicating.  
  
Freeing the knife from its sheath. Sheathing it once more, this time in the soft flesh of her belly.  
  
The last thing she saw were her son's eyes, trusting, belieiving. Her husband's face, filled with disbelief when he recieved the news. The last things she felt were a sense of regret, panic, and then peace.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Tequila sat, and watched. Listened to the clock.  
  
Time stained everything. In a good or bad way. It stained things indeed, but innocently enough. 


	6. Child of Change

No! I didn't do it, I swear! There was no evil scheme to try and take over DBZ and all its characters!... hmm, perhaps another "I don't own DBZ or any of the characters but Tequila and Reita" would suffice. (Sorry, it's really late, I shouldn't be up. It's not healthy for me and humaity in general *evil laugh*)  
  
Kay...enjoy! Lyrics don't belong to me, either; they belong to Mary Chapin Carpenter.  
  
It's all I hate, but oh so tempting, Fills me up, but leaves me empty, It's all regrets and second chances, What's the point of backward glances? That lead me nowhere, I can't go back there..." -Mary Chapin Carpenter, "Maybe World"  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Nappa strolled idly through the corridors of Frieza's stronghold, noting with an increasing amount of scorn how barren the entire setup looked, how it was divided so simply into its various sections. The barracks, the various chambers for those of the upper class, the quarters that belonged to the concubines, forbidden to all males. The servant's quarters, the throneroom, the council room.  
  
Lots of rooms, Nappa mused, silently making the understatement of the year. He was startled out of his thoughts when a voice hailed him from behind. He turned, his surprise quickly vanishing, replaced by annoyance.  
  
Just what I need. Reita. That girl shoves her nose into other people's business at the most inappropriate times...  
  
"Nappa! Stop walking so fast! Stop walking, come to think of it."  
  
Nappa obeyed, turning to find himself gazing into a set of green of eyes, alive with a wicked shimmer. Reita, the halfbreed servant, the result of a night of passion between a Saiya-jin woman and a male from a planet just north of here who had been taken as a slave. Her mother was long dead, her father had left for his home planet due to unknown causes; nobody ever touched on that topic. They'd left behind a spunky, sarcastic girl with a tongue of fire who had inherited the good looks of neither her father nor her mother.  
  
I swear, the woman could take on all of Frieza's forces and win just because she's so...annoying!  
  
Reita had been given her father's pale brown skin, her mother's thick mane of dark hair. As for the looks; she was nothing special according to both Nappa and Raditz. In fact, she was nothing much in the eyes of most Saiya-jins. A sharp brow line contradicted rounded cheekbones, and a heavily emphasized jaw, giving the impression of either a bird of prey or a harpy on a bad day.  
  
She has no clue where to draw the line when it comes to that mouth of her's, Nappa's thoughts ground out. Someday, it's gonna get her in trouble.  
  
"And where are you off to?"  
  
Nappa gave Reita his usual grunt of response, then a "mind your business or you'll regret it" look. It was true, both he and Raditz had a sort of affinity for the girl, but she could be obnoxious beyond belief time and time again.  
  
Reita gave a toothy grin, exposing her fangs. "Ooohhh, I see. Not talking, are you? Well, I'm just going to have to find a way to change that, huh?"  
  
Watch out.  
  
Too late. The unnoticed bucket of water the servant had been toting emptied itself directly on Nappa's head. He gave a yelp as the frigid liquid began soaking his clothing, coursing its way down his back. Whirling, he spat out the remainder of the water along with several foul words.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?!" he fumed. "I've got a meeting with-"  
  
"So that's it," she drawled carelessly. "You're going to a meeting. See? I got it out of you."  
  
"You little-"  
  
Nappa didn't waste time on any more pleasant conversation. Reita found herself being lifted and carried back down the corridor to the servant's quarters where she was promptly stuffed into a barrel half-filled with something she wasn't sure of (did she want to know?), the lid coming down hard on the top.  
  
Her natural reaction would have been to begin screaming obscenities as loud as possible, but she shut her mouth the instant the conversation reached her ears.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
He was almost healed.  
  
Not fully, but he could stand with a bit of assistance which he grudgingly and shamefacedly accepted from Raditz. Vegeta had always been an independant soul; the beating he'd recieved had merely fired his lust for independance with humiliation. Revenge was the first thing on his mind; an action highly accepted by Saiya-jin society, encouraged, even.  
  
Raditz was either a mind reader, or had simply picked up on the outward signs shown by his prince. And for the first time, Vegeta saw something other than concern and cockiness on the older Saiya-jin's face: he saw fear. Absolute, stark, fear.  
  
Raditz helped his prince move back to the small cot located in the chambers he so loved to pace. Thirteen steps forwards, thirteen steps backwards. Twenty-six steps in all. It had become an obsession for him; walk, walk, walk, step, step step, till his abused, still-healing muscles screaming in agony.  
  
Not like he cared.  
  
He'd been cheated, lied to, beaten within an inch of his life. Now, here he was, bitter, taking succor from the fact that there would be hell to pay concerning Frieza, recieving help from somebody who would be considered his underling had he been on his home planet, who was now treating him like they were on equal footing.  
  
Raditz stopped. Vegeta seated himself on the cot- no, collapsed onto the cot, much to his chagrin. Raditz seated himself beside Vegeta, then opened his mouth as if to say something. Nothing came out.  
  
"You think I'm weak, don't you?"  
  
Raditz shook his head. "No. No, I don't."  
  
"What did you want to say, then? It had to be something." Vegeta finished his sentance, realizing with a pang that he sounded slightly like his mother.  
  
Raditz took no notice. Instead, he hesitated once more, then launched into a waterfall of words.  
  
"My Prince, don't think I'm any less of a Saiya-jin than you are. I know what's been running through your mind of late. Revenge. And it's only natural; it is our way. But you have to understand one thing: Frieza...is virtually indestructable. It is believed that he is the most powerful fighter there is out there."  
  
Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest, revealing once more a portion of the stubborn child that lay hidden within. "Didn't your parents ever teach you anything?" he questioned. Raditz would have been amused had it not been for the smirk that plastered itself onto his prince's face and refused to let go. The result was disturbing; an uncanny mixture of man and child, something that had showed up far too early. For a second, Raditz longed for his older sister's gentle teasing, and wondered about his mother and how she was faring, having just given birth. He even missed the conflict between his father and he, a conflict that was more irksome than anything else.  
  
Bardock was always a stubborn man, he mused idly.  
  
Vegeta regarded his companion for a moment longer, then continued and finished, using only two words. "Super Saiya-jin."  
  
Raditz was stunned when he saw a spark light the young princ'es eye. Obession. The start of a new fascination. "Prince Vegeta," he began. "Don't fill your head with these sort of ideas. Super Saiya-jin, you say? Perhaps. But such a thing is truly rare, and setting your hopes that high can only lead to disappointment. So do yourself a favor and get your head out of the clouds. Start living in the here and now; survival is all that matters."  
  
Vegeta said nothing; just turned his face to the wall and left it there. He didn't even respond when the door to his chamber creaked open, and Reita let herself in. Raditz raised both eyebrows; Reita had cleaned herself up. He could smell some of the suds that still clung to her body, could sense the tension she projected.  
  
She seated herself on the floor a small way from Raditz. Funny, she thought, that I should take comfort from the man who knew my mother, who was my mother's mate to be.  
  
But Raditz was a comfort, there was no denying that. She shifted, wishing for a second that he'd come and seat himself beside her, her mind flashing back to the events beforehand.  
  
---Irked, Reita began crawling out of the barrel, not caring who was staring. The name had caught her ear; Land of Light, in her father's native tongue. The father she'd been so close to, the one who'd abandoned her./p  
  
It wasn't his fault, she'd tried to tell herself at first, but then gave in to bitterness and resentment. Hatred was out of the question; how could she hate the parents that had given her the best years of her life? That had given her life itself?  
  
Evening had almost broken, and in the flickering torchlight, the shadows of the two speaking looked almost feral, in a way. There was also something romantic about it, about the way the sillouettes danced and flickered.  
  
She strained to hear more... more of the conversation./p Within the blink of an eye, she wished she hadn't heard anything at all.---  
  
She looked up, and Raditz caught her eye and winked, expecting some sort of retaliation or response. When she didn't do anything, it struck him. And for a moment in time, Raditz wasn't himself. He was Reita, frightened, confused, grief-stricken.  
  
In that moment of time, he knew.  
  
"It's gone," she stated brokenly.  
  
Raditz felt insecurity stealing over him. All his life, he'd given his affection to nobody save his family and a few close friends, Saiya-jins, all of them. The bond he'd formed with this halfling had been strange enough...now, the jackal that was Fate had turned around and bitten Reita, who'd thought she'd had it by the tail.  
  
Something twisted in his stomach, and he sank to the floor beside her, putting a tentative arm around her shoulder.  
  
"It's gone," she repeated. "Freiza destroyed it."  
  
Raditz didn't have to ask what was. A stab of guilt wound its way through him; he'd known this was coming for a long, long time. Frieza had had his eye set upon the planet Seneva for quite awhile now. Only some of the tyrants closest confidents and most trusted officers knew why Frieza had taken such an interest in it, but didn't matter anymore. It had been destroyed two days ago, taking Reita's father, her one remaining parent, with it.  
  
Vegeta watched from where he lay, not quite knowing what to make of the situation. He slowly took interest as the soft words between surrogate older brother and younger sister formed a conversation. And slowly, he began to realize what was happening, even when the first tears from Reita gave way to full-fledged sobs.  
  
Premonition. Foreshadowing.  
  
The two words whispered in his mind. And, unwittingly, he brushed them away.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Block. Turn. Aim. Throw.  
  
Vegeta preformed these movements over and over again, faster and faster each and every time. Raditz watched form a more shadowy corner of the room, eyes filled with approval.  
  
Kid's got what it takes. A true Saiya-jin.  
  
The room in particular was located somewhere near the southern end of the barracks. In keeping with Frieza's stronghold, it was stark, barely furnished save the few weapons kept under lock and key, and a small wooden chair that changed position daily according to where the users of the chamber prefered to watch whoever was training.  
  
Another flurry of motion a human would never have been able to follow. But Raditz was Saiya-jin, and he managed to keep up with every twist, every turn, as though it were being played for him in slow motion. He only had to glance once at the series of gracefully executed movements to arouse his fighting instinct. The older Saiya-jin watched, riveted.  
  
Raditz's attention was called away, however, when the door to the chamber swung open. Dodoria stalked in, the light that dwelt in the frame of the door dyeing his skin a sickly, washed-out paler pink. He was followed almost immediately by Zarbon, and then Frieza himself. Raditz tensed; something was up. There was no formal atmosphere to this; it looked as though three equals had just entered and decided to place themselves above all else.  
  
And Zarbon and Dodoria were what Frieza would consider underlings.  
  
Raditz watched Vegeta's face carefully. The scent of fear stung his nostrils, fear awash with rage.Don't do anything stupid, he said silently, hoping Vegeta would at least once meet his eyes, hoping to communicate this basic piece of advice to him. Please don't do anything stupid!  
  
No, he won't. The fear balances out his anger.  
  
Frieza glanced at Dodoria and Zarbon, and seemed to hesitate. Then, he turned decisive once more, waving his two henchmen out of the room. Both looked vaguely disappointed.  
  
Frieza then turned his attention to the youngling before him; Raditz didn't seem to exist anymore. Lips of sharp ebony pulled back in a dry smile.  
  
For a second, the Prince of Saiya-jins and a tyrant, a warlord, faced each other. Frieza gazed down into eyes filled with hatred...and...fear.  
  
Wariness. Caution.  
  
Vegeta managed to hold his ground, even as Frieza began to speak.  
  
"Tell me something, prince," the Ice-jin inquired, tone mocking. "How do you like it here. so far?"  
  
Vegeta's naivety lent a hand, throwing him into confusion. He shrugged. "It's too bare. I still don't understand why you brought me here."  
  
Raditz watched. He knew what was coming.  
  
It was as though Frieza had read his mind.  
  
The tyrant turned slowly, impaling Raditz with his gold gaze. He smiled in a fashion that was almost benign. "You, Saiya-jin," he snapped. "This is to be a formal training session. I will not have you interfering."  
  
Raditz sneered the instand the Ice-jin turned his back. A formal training session. Right. More of a sadistic ruler breaking a young boy in.  
  
"So, you think the place could use a little." Frieza grimaced, "lightening up, is that so?"  
  
Vegeta didn't answer. The boy, already sensing a trap, suddenly caught Nappa's sharp glance.  
  
Watch. Your. Step.  
  
"You must come from a very prominent bloodline, Frieza purred, "to be able to speak to me in such a way."  
  
Vegeta balked at the sudden mention of his bloodline. Who was the Ice-jin, to stick his nose into the prince's family life? Defiance cut into fear, and Vegeta glared.  
  
Frieza's eyes narrowed.  
  
Spirit like this would not be tolerated in his stronghold, or aboard his ship when they boarded. It would have to be beaten out.  
  
The Ice-jin was silent for a moment. Then, in a violent and unexpected bout of motion, he turned, sending a ki blast directly at the prince. "Block it if you can," he hissed. Nappa jumped when the beam hit Vegeta. Kita's son was sent sprawling backwards, one arm up in a futile gesture at stopping Frieza's attack.  
  
Frieza glanced up, visage disturbingly cheerful.  
  
"Let's begin, shall we?"  
  
Raditz turned away. This was defilement of the lowest kind, this disrespect being shown to Saiya-jin royalty. He could choose not to watch, but the small, verbal mind games the Ice-jin had begun to play fell upon his ears, no matter how tried to tune them out.  
  
Gods, Raditz thought, horror-stricken. He's not only going to need a hospital after this, he's going to need intensive care and a mental ward. Frieza's /isick in the headi, and he takes joy in.sharing the 'joy'.  
  
Seconds bled into minutes, and time spilled its life force into what seemed to be eternity. Nappa stood, not knowing whether he should slip out silently or wait until it was all over.  
  
Until it was all over.  
  
Wait a second. the Saiya-jin's brow furrowed. He might kill Vegeta. He's been violent enough so far. He might.  
  
Nappa shot a glance at Raditz, and the look was knowing. Both turned at the abrupt sound of somebody-namely Vegeta-hitting the wall. Quite literally.  
  
The Ice-jin stood, posture relaxed. Vegeta was.  
  
.Vegeta.  
  
Sparks flew before the young prince's eyes, and he was struggling for every breath. Squeezed his eyes shut, thinking it would make the pain go away. King Vegeta's words came back, making him instantly ashamed for showing such weakness.  
  
Frieza's fist connected with his jaw. He barely felt it; his face had gone numb from the pain ages ago. And now he was being strangled to death.  
  
"I am The Ultimate," a voice hissed from far away. "If you feared me to begin with you, were quite right, you know. Actually, very right. "A bout of almost-manical laughter. Raditz' sudden protest. A shadow flickered at the door.  
  
Raditz looked up. Reita had entered.  
  
"Lord Frieza." Her voice seemed to break whatever spell of insanity the Ice-jin had placed himself under. He looked up, annoyed, allowing Vegeta's battered body to fell to the ground.  
  
"What do you want?" pause. "I could have your life for disrupting me like that."  
  
Not a sliver of fear behind the voice. "Lord Frieza," she said steadily. "I have been sent to summon you. You're needed at the throne room. King Cold's orders."  
  
Frieza seemed to hesitate, but eventually departed, throwing out a 'witty anecdote' in farewell. Reita looked at Nappa, and then Raditz. Looked down at the boy.  
  
Something flickered in her mind.  
  
The Saiya-jin race that her mother had belonged to believed very strongly in bringing their children to be powerful fighters. Saiya-jin parents were all for pushing their children to the very limit, driving them over the edge and catching them just before they hit the ground, leading by example and experience.  
  
That wasn't something Reita had been able to experience. The girl had been raised mainly by her father, a man from an entirely different planet. Senevians who had sired children left them to fend mostly for themselves, not bothering to provide an example. Instinct was supposed to kick in, but not for Reita, who had inherited a Saiya-jin child's need to be taught.  
  
A servant's life was a harsh one, and this child, looking so broken, brought memories slamming into her mind. Reita, as a younger girl, having been beaten for incompetence at her task. Lying in a pool of her own blood. Close to death. Her father, the man she loved, watching with dulled eyes, unable to comprehend how he was supposed to react to such a thing.  
  
The halfling's gazed narrowed. "Take him back to his quarters."  
  
Nappa spread his hands in an almost imploring gesture. "But.we don't have any medical equipment. Supplies. He should be in the infirmary or hospital.or.we should.we."  
  
Reita scoffed. "You really think Frieza's going to allow him any medical care at all?"  
  
Raditz gritted his teeth. "Didn't you hear, girl? No. Medical. Supplies."  
  
Reita's tone was careless. "I never said I wasn't above stealing any of them."  
  
Her gaze fell upon Vegeta. And I'm not going to let the boy experience what I had to.  
  
It was a conviction. A promise made.  
  
.in blood, she thought blandly, staring at the angry scarlet stains pooling beneath the small body.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Zarbon glanced up from the manuscript in his hands as the servant tidying his quarters accidently tipped over one of the vases, then smirked, making him wonder how much of an "accident" it actually was. He watched her for a moment longer, and she seemed to wilt under his suspicious gaze.  
  
"Aynk. What. Are. You. Doing?"  
  
The older servant regarded him coolly, violet gaze flickering with a hardness he hadn't seen before. Zarbon grinned.  
  
"You wouldn't be trying to break my things on ipurpose/i now, would you?"  
  
Aynk opened her mouth, and Zarbon had the distinct feeling a grand and most cliche Speech of Rebellion was coming on. Instead, she lowered her eyes and mumbled a "no". He was about to reprimend her further when an earth-shattered crash sounded from somewhere down the long row of chambers and various rooms.  
  
Zarbon let out a snarl. "Get out of here."  
  
Aynk wasted no time in beating a hasty retreat. She crashed into Reita further down the hallway, grabbing the young woman by one of her pointed ears.  
  
Reita yelped in pain, then let out a snarl. What was that for? she growled.  
  
"All right, you," Aynk barked. "What was that noise all about? Better not be that pet Saiya-jin of yours again, halfling."  
  
Reita freed herself from the older female's grasp, eyes flashing.  
  
"He's not my pet. And he is no animal. Have a care and watch your mouth next time your tongue wishes to say something about a friend of mine."  
  
Aynk muttered something, then turned her back and bustled off to the kitchens. Reita headed in the opposite direction, knowing she would find the source of the noise ten rooms down.  
  
She found Vegeta, the source of the noise, and a very distraught Nappa looking on. The training room was in shambles, the Saiya-jin prince with his back to the door, shoulders heaving with exertion. He was straining for air, seeming to devour each breath, then released it with a ragged, rattling sound.  
  
Nappa glanced up. "He did it again. Trained to hard, broke the room." Nappa let out a tense laugh. "And his head, it seems. Frieza's not going to like this."  
  
Raditz broke into the conversation, a slight smile playing over his lips.  
  
"No. Frieza's going to love this. Look at him; look at all the rage that's been pent up there for the last nine years. Something's going to give sooner or later; he'll need a release for all of that. And that's where Frieza's plans come in."  
  
Reita's eyes narrowed. "There's a downside, you know. Freiza's creating something he can't control."  
  
"Oh, no." Raditz lowered his voice. "Not at all. Underneath all that rage is fear, my friend. Fear of Frieza."  
  
Raditz just barely dodged the beam of white light that Vegeta released in his general direction. Turning, the Saiya-jin prince gave a tight smile.  
  
Nine years had come and gone; nine years had turned the innocent, naive young boy into a tough, distrubed man-child constantly at war with himself and the world around him. Reita trained her eyes over the lean body, flesh rolling over muscle, and smiled in satisfaction. The warrior in her sang with fierce joy at the beauty of the creature before her.  
  
Cold. Emotionless. The words played through her subconsciousness.  
  
The lack of emotion was partially Reita at fault. Nappa and Raditz constantly had their hands full, and there were no other females who would take the son of Frieza's most hated enemy. So she'd taken care of him as best she could. It had been an awkward and bumpy road, but she'd somehow managed, and in the process instilled a few of her father's values within him.  
  
Vegeta eyed Raditz, and Reita sensed her friend's nervousness. Both Raditz and Nappa feared the Saiya-jin prince. There was a sense of semi-respect, but they didn't trust him as they had trusted his father.  
  
He hasn't proved himself yet, the woman mused.  
  
Vegeta's gaze narrowed, fists clenching and unclenching in short, quick, spasms. "Care to repeat that, Raditz?" he asked.  
  
Raditz allowed his teeth to clamp down on his tongue, shaking his head "no." Vegeta ground his teeth, a bad habit he'd developed. He stabbed Raditz a Look before exiting the room, Reita close behind him.  
  
The duo walked in silence for a moment before Reita spoke up. "You do know you're going to get punished for destroying the room again, quello piccolo caro."**  
  
She recieved only a grunt in response and a soft, mumbled, "don't call me that." Her temper sparked, she stopped, positioning herself in front of Vegeta.  
  
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you enjoy Frieza or one of his minions beating you half to death. What's wrong with you?"  
  
Vegeta brushed her hands from his shoulders. "I'm not afraid. So don't go thinking that."  
  
"Oh yes, you are" Reita shot back. "You're terrified of Frieza. And you know what? I think you're very much aware of that fact. You just don't want to admit it, not even to yourself."  
  
Vegeta paused, stunned by the bluntness of his surrogate mother/older sister's words. He was tempted to explode, to cover how right she was in using another fit of rage. Instead, the two hated words fell from his lips before he could stop them.  
  
"I know."  
  
Reita bit her lip, realizing she'd gone too far this time. "Vegeta," she began. He cut her off before she could go any further.  
  
"Stop. I don't want to hear it."  
  
They continued walking, the silence between them going from amicable to tense. Finally, Reita broke into a soft laugh.  
  
"You're very lucky, you know that? Or...you were very lucky."  
  
Vegeta was unsure of what she meant, and put up a facade of disinterest. She knew him, though.  
  
"It must've been Paradise for you; raised by Saiya-jin parents."  
  
"Don't think Saiya-jin parents are all that you make them out to be," he cautioned.  
  
"It's better than nothing. My mother- she loved me, loved me very much, but died before we even got started. My father...he...loved me. I know that. But he never showed it."  
  
An image swam through Reita's mind; she, no more than a little girl, having taken a severe beating, pleading for her father's help and getting none.  
  
He didn't know any better, she tried to tell herself. He didn't grasp the fact that I am not pure Senevian. He didn't understand that I am part Saiya-jin, too.  
  
Vegeta knew what was going through her mind. From what he'd glimpsed, she'd suffered through childhood, taking succor from a father who cared deeply for her but treated her with nothing but coldness.  
  
"Maybe it's better that he treated me the way he did," she said, almost as if to herself. Vegeta looked up, surprised.  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
Her eyes became chips of ice on her face. "We all have to face this world sooner or later. Better raise your children in a brutal fashion and have them grow up strong enough to take whatever life throws at them. Better than having them grow up soft." She pierced the Prince with a gaze."If you love them, if you value them, you'll treat them harshly."  
  
The words were insane to Vegeta, nonsensical.  
  
And yet...and yet...  
  
He said goodbye to Reita and retreated into his chamber, throwing himself down onto the bed.  
  
And yet...those very words made perfect sense.  
  
He fell asleep, thinking of various ways in which to flaunt his strength before Frieza, to show none of the punishment had fazed him.  
  
Despite the fact that they had.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"You feel the anger? Don't let it blind you. Harness it, and use it to drown out the fear. Let it grow until it's something not even the most powerful of your enemies can stand."  
  
Raditz finished his speech, watching Vegeta's every move as he continued to spar with Nappa. Raditz had been yelling instructions from the sidelines all the while, Nappa had resigned to his fate, a world-weary, why me look on his features.  
  
Vegeta was covered from head to toe in a series of bruises and abrasions; his punishment for destroying the training room for the fifth time. A minor beating, but just enough to spark the need for violence.  
  
---"We all have to face this world sooner or later."---  
  
Nappa's fist began its descent towards his face. Vegeta was too slow to dodge it, but took the force of it unflinching. He retaliated at lightening speed, a speed that was just beginning to show itself. Nappa reeled backwards when his prince's foot connected with his jaw. Three more movements, three more actions, and Nappa was almost down.  
  
---"You feel the anger? Don't let it blind you. Harness it..."---  
  
For a second, Nappa was not longer Nappa. Frieza was the one before him, and Vegeta let out his anger in a fit of sheer brutality, wild, barbaric cries tearing themselves from his throat.  
  
---"Better raise your chldren in a brutal fashion and have them grow up strong enough to take whatever life throws at them."---  
  
Raditz voice played faintly in the background, but for Vegeta, the world had narrowed down to only two people; himself, and the man he fancied to be Frieza. Concentration filled his being, concentration, determination, and rage.  
  
---"Let it grow until it's something not even the most powerful of your enemies can withstand."---  
  
A final cry escaped him, and he came back to reality, Nappa lying at his feet, defeated, shocked. Even Raditz had fallen silent.  
  
---"If you love them, if you value them, you'll treat them harshly."---  
  
Vegeta stood, panting for a second, then turned.  
  
"Something's happening, isn't it?" he inquired of Raditz. "I can feel it. What does his Lordship Frieza have planned now?" he sneered.  
  
Raditz stammered something.  
  
"Ah...ah...th-that's not for me to say, Prince Vegeta."  
  
"You'd deny your prince?"  
  
"No." Raditz bowed his head, then snapped into "formal" mode. "Prince Vegeta, we are to in five days' time for the planet Arein. It's densely populated by an anthropoid species of high intelligence level. More of scientists than warriors, which should make our task much easier."  
  
Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "'Our task?'"  
  
"You..." Raditz trailed off, unsure of how much he should be telling the prince. Then, he straightened. This was his leader, and he could not lie.  
  
"Prince Vegeta, when Frieza took you from your home, it was not for no good reason. He knew a time would come, a time when your power level would rise to fit his needs. And that day has arrived. You have been recruited as one of his mercenaries."  
  
Vegeta took the words without so much as a flicker of emotion. "So," he said, the word accompanied by a bland laugh. "I'm at Lord Frieza's disposal now. No matter. I'll obey him, because it means survival. And I will live. I'll live to see the day I kill him."  
  
The words were so calm. So cold. So Saiya-jin.  
  
Yes, Nappa mused. He is Saiya-jin revenge personified, this changeling.  
  
Raditz smiled.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"You see, Trunks?" Tequila asked softly. "At his young age, your father became a child of change. He was being molded, sculpted, taking the first few steps to becoming what he is today. And there's no denying it, because we are all children of change."  
  
He didn't answer. His eyes, wide open, were fixed on the ceiling in an eerie sort of trance. Tequila would have been disturbed if she wasn't so used to it; he wasn't her first 'victim'.  
  
Change child.  
  
The word rang in her ears.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
** "Quello Piccolo Carro" literally means Beloved little one. I have shamelessly stolen words from the Italian language and substituted them in for Senevian. *sighs* bad me... ^_^  
  
A note on the character Reita: she was written into the storyline because I don't feel that certain aspects of Vegeta's character exist just because he's a Saiyan. Reita is symbolic of change, and of his coming out of boyhood far too early.  
  
Sorry for the long delay...it took me a bit longer to write this chapter. 


	7. Broken Wing

I don't own DBZ and am making nadda from this. Lyrics aren't mine either. Just to clarify, (even though this is semi-inconsistent) brackets thoughts, and --- (text) --- indicates flashback.  
  
"And with a broken wing, She still sings, She keeps an eye on the sky, With a broken wing, She carries her dreams, Man, you oughta see her fly..." -Martina McBride, "Broken Wing"  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
In the dim light that the spaceship provided, Raditz sat back, studying Vegeta carefully. This boy who he had become a semi-mentor to baffled him beyond all reason. Everything was tipsy, from the way he struggled to hold onto his childhood when it was a thing he should have left behind long ago to the unnerving knack for survival under the harshest conditions. And to be honest, he had a healthy amount of fear for Vegeta. The Saiya-jin prince's power level was strong as he was bullheaded, and Raditz was sure it would increase in years to come.  
  
Vegeta stood alone, squinting in the light of a harsh, alien sun. It's rays penetrated the window he gazed out of, and its sheer size alone managed to put him in a state of awe.  
  
It looks so...large, he mused. Too large, in fact, for a planet of that size.  
  
He stared down at the planet itself, at the surface comprised mostly of dark red, just a hint of violet exposing itself. His first mission. A young Saiya-jin heading off to his first battle. A juvenile bird of prey descending on its first kill.  
  
The warrior in him rejoiced, the frightened little boy cringed, hoping it would all be over soon.  
  
Vegeta brushed away any hints of fear left over. He refused to show any signs of it, not now, not after years of training, years of carefully disciplining his mind and body, years of mastering the art of keeping his face devoid of anything but hostility.  
  
Years spent in agony.  
  
He felt his stomach lurch as the ship began a gentle downwards path towards the planet beneath.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Dodoria turned at the sound of Zarbon's voice from somewhere further down the hallway. He squinted, annoyed. "What is it this time?"  
  
Zarbon smirked, indulging himself and not bothering to reply until he had very slowly, very agonizingly reached his comrade. Dodoria ground his teeth; Zarbon had the ability to find small ways to annoy people out of their minds. Dodoria was no exception to the rule.  
  
"Well? Come on, Zarbon. Out with it, because if you're not talking, I'm leaving."  
  
The smirk left Zarbon's face, and he gave an expasperated sigh. "Lord Frieza would like to see you. It's about the spaceship."  
  
Dodoria blanched at the words, recalling his mistake, how he'd replaced the wrong piece of machinery then neglected to correct his error out of sheer laziness. He had a rather "pleasant" image of Frieza ordering his punishment, and even more "pleasant" image of his punishment being carried out playing through his thoughts.  
  
Zarbon's smirk had returned, and Dodoria's suspicions were aroused. His fairweather "friend" had something in mind.  
  
Let me guess. The next word that follows is "however."  
  
"However..."  
  
See?  
  
Shut up.  
  
I really have to stop talking to myself. It's probably not healthy.  
  
"However..."  
  
Does he have to repeat himself?  
  
"...I've got a little piece of information that just might get you on his Lordship's good side." Pause. "For a price."  
  
Dodoria resiested the urge to fling himself onto the floor and grovel shamelessly. Instead, he settled for a calm, "All right."  
  
"You remember the various bits of medical equipment that went "missing" a few years back?"  
  
Dodoria rolled his eyes. How could he inot/i remember? Frieza had been in an uproar about the incident, and it hadn't been because of missing equipment alone. An older female and important asset to Frieza's forces had been seriously injured under high-stress circumstances, preventing her from relaying much-needed orders to the ground troops below, locked in a battle with a race that the tyrant had underestimated.  
  
A young novice in Freiza's forces had noted the missing medical equipment, and had not bothered to report it. Frieza's commander had died, taking with her the vital information that drew the line between victory and defeat. The results were catastrophic on Frieza's part, and he'd withdrawn his troops in utter humiliation. The novice had been executed for it, and now, years after, it was common knowledge that he'd gladly kill whoever was responsible for the lack of the much-needed medical supplies, should he get the chance to.  
  
"Of course I remember," Dodoria snapped ill-temperdly. "Now spit it out."  
  
"I have information. There's a thief behind that fiasco, and I know who it is."  
  
"What's the price?"  
  
Zarbon stopped, bit his lip. "The...ah...the concubine you were given...could I..." he trailed off, and Dodoria saw the faintest hint of a blush color his cheeks, which struck him as rather odd; wether it was women or money, Zarbon was usually quite brazen in the asking. Dodoria kept his face carefully expresionless, and nodded. "Yes, yes, she's all yours," he said hastily. "Now tell me."  
  
"Reita. Servant's quarters."  
  
Dodoria watched Zarbon retreat, then gave a slight laugh.  
  
Fool. I would have given you the concubine for nothing.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Vegeta glanced at the rubble below, heart pounding in his chest, realizing just what kind of power he had over these weaklings. He didn't see them, didn't see their frightened eyes, didn't hear their pleas for mercy. All he saw were many feet, racing frantically for cover, all he heard were cries and the general music that was destruction.  
  
Nappa shot a sideways glance at Vegeta, then grinned, wicked delight pasted over his features. The Saiya-jin prince had become an animal during the course of slaughter, a wild animal, a killing machine. He was everything the warriors of old stood for, from the glint of untamed, unabridged savegry in his eyes, to ruthless way in which he conducted himself.  
  
Nappa had to admit, there was a line between plain cruel and ruthless. Vegeta was the gray area inbetween, the zone in which the two elements crossed and became one.  
  
The smoke, the rubble, the wild-eyed survivors of chaos; it was just the beginning. The trio of Saiya-jins had just scratched the surface; a planet wasn't exactly something you could conquer in just under an hour, Nappa thought, the thought steeped in the arcane.  
  
Vegeta hovered several feet of the ground, gazing down at the madness he'd caused. At the power he held. And in that moment of time, he knew.  
  
He had on of two choices: live in fear of his own power, or become one with it.  
  
The latter sounded much more appealing.  
  
Something moved to his left, and he sent a beam of raidance flaring in that general direction, satisfied when he heard a shriek of terror, then nothing at all.  
  
Absently, he watched as the large structure he had hit in the process crumpled into nothing but the debris of yesteryear.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Reita spit out a number of curse-words, mixing three languages and turning the heads of several of her fellow servants. Was it really her fault if she had no cooking skills whatsoever?  
  
It's days like this I wish I'd been put into hard labor in the mines,/i she though, rattling off another string of mental complaints. (AN spinoff of Krillin's "shoe salesman" wish. lol)  
  
The half breed glanced down at the smoking, overflowing pot of burnt food before her and sighed. Sitting there giving the thing her infamous Death Looks wasn't going to get it cleaned up, she realized with a groan. Grasping the handles with both hands, she yelped and jumped back, realizing far too late how hot the object was. The pot and its contents went flying, landing in a messy heap on the ground.  
  
Kind of resembled Vegeta after his first introduction to Frieza,/i she thought wryly, knowing the jibe was insenitive and finding amusement in it all the same.  
  
"My. Aren't we clumsy today, Reita?"  
  
Reita jerked, startled, then glanced up. Her eyes were met by an oily smile, a slick, sarcastic grin. She grimaced.  
  
Aelen, one of Frieza's underlings. They didn't speak much, but she'd taken a serious disliking towards him and his arrogant ways, and even now fought back the urge to thumb her nose at him, knowing the gesture was both childish and futile.  
  
And would most likely get me into trouble, she mused.  
  
"You're already in trouble, little one," he said, and she narrowed her eyes, knowing he was taking advantage of his mind-reading ability, and of her. Aelen reached down, offering his hand. Reita stared coldly, and he wasted no time in grasping her arm and yanking her into a standing position, delivering a quick slap to one of her cheeks, then thrusting her out the doorway.  
  
She fought him violently as they went, out of sheer rage, and he struggled to restrain her. Aynk leaned against the frame of the door, watching impassively.  
  
"She's had it coming for a long time," the older servant remarked to nobody in particular. "Not sure what it was, but you can stake your life on it: we won't be seeing much of her anymore."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
She ran, a young mother, infant clutched to her chest. Leaving behind the ruins of the structure she'd once called home, hoping to leave behind Frieza's mercenaries. Doubt bore a hole into her mind; was there any escaping the tyrant's cruelty at all?  
  
She doubted it.  
  
Panting hard, the female scrambled wildly, tripping over a piece of debris, going down hard and staying down. The babe in her arms refused to shut up, the cries seeming to grow louder and louder as time passed.  
  
Peering over the fallen pillar that shielded them, the mother gave a huge, rattling sigh. It would be a flat-out run from here to next shelter.  
  
Where do you think you're going? she wondered. She could choose any place in the world to hide, and was ten hundred percent certain that she'd still be killed, her child destroyed with her.  
  
If that's the case, I guess this is the part where I fight to the death,/i she decided, mouth set in a thin, stubborn line. After several seconds longer, she rose, launched herself forwards, shrieked as the Saiya-jin prince appeared out of nowhere and sent her reeling into darkness.  
  
Vegeta watched both mother and child vanish into a soft swirl of black smoke, staining the air.  
  
Just like time. It stains everything, no matter how innocently it does so.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Reita's struggles increased as power shifted, and she was handed over to one of the guards standing in the hallway. The man leered at her and slipped Aelen several coins; his pay.  
  
Bastard,Reita fumed.  
  
The guard hustled her further down the hallway, and her eyes widened in horror when he took a left, and the illumination began to fade. Horror, because there was only one place he could be going:  
  
Below.  
  
The prisons.  
  
The prisons were dark, dank places. Bad things happened to you.to iwomen/i when they were down there. Torture instruments were commonplace. Only the strong survived.  
  
No, her mind shrieked. iOnly the ultra, ultra, super strong survive! What did I do? What the hell did I do?  
  
Down a flight of insanely primitive looking steps. Her imagination was already painting wild pictures of the terrible death she would most likely suffer. Reita was surprised when the guard whisked her into a separate cell...no, more of a room. The whirl of darkness and noise faded behind her, and he flicked a light switch on.  
  
"Is this her?"  
  
Reita jumped at the voice and turned to view the speaker. She was surprised at what she saw.  
  
"This is her, Roku. All yours," the guard smiled.  
  
Roku...  
  
...was an effeminate looking man. Tanned skin was offset by dark locks of hair, and he posessed a pair of even darker, deep-set eyes. Such sorrowful eyes. Reita would never have thought a man such as this would be capable of inflicting any harm whatsoever.  
  
She was wrong.  
  
No information needed to be extracted from Reita. Frieza was convinced she was behind the petty incident that had lead to his utmost humiliation. The sentence was death, but he would make her suffer before that.  
  
And Roku was the best he had./p  
  
Some said the man was half-insane. A born sadist complete with a mind distorted beyond belief. Very, very inventive when it came to devising various ways of causing people to suffer.  
  
Very, very inventive.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Vegeta's fist hit the table, and Zarbon tensed visibly.  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"Maybe you should take that up with Lord Frieza, ne?"  
  
The Saiya-jin prince growled. He knew how far he could push one of the Ice- jin's underlings, and he'd just stretched the limit quite a bit.  
  
"Maybe I will," he snapped. Zarbon gave a cold laugh.  
  
"Not a chance. You're too scared."  
  
Furious, Vegeta exited Zarbon's chambers. The emotional high he'd been on during the massacre had followed him all the way home, and the unfolding events hadn't done anything to quell it. Nappa met him midway.  
  
"Prince Vegeta. Did he tell you anything?"  
  
Vegeta shook his head. "Damn baka wouldn't say a word."  
  
"Wonderful," Raditz mused. "We turn our back for a few days, and everything changes. Reita's gone. Saiya-jin quarters have been moved. New regulations and rules. Zarbon's become stuffier than ever. And," he hesitated. "The cook's been replaced. Cold's lost his mind; the food tastes like..."  
  
Vegeta wasn't listening. His mind was elsewhere, the same sixth sense he'd had as a boy screaming at him.  
  
---Reita wasn't offering him pity. And he was glad for it; pity twisted his insides like nothing he'd ever felt before. Instead, she sat and looked with pride upon the Saiya-jin prince after every beating he'd managed to survive, after every mind-game Frieza played from which he'd come out not the victor, but still sane.---  
  
Vegeta blinked. Something was wrong.  
  
---A young Vegeta woke up. It was dark-/p  
  
And Reita had fallen asleep beside him. His first instinct was to push her straight off the bed, but he lingered for a few moments. The warmth of her was comforting. She didn't need to speak at all. Not a word.---  
  
Vegeta grimaced. Was she taking the place of his mother?  
  
His mother.  
  
Kita. He hadn't heard anything of her. Frieza enjoyed keeping him in the dark guessing.  
  
---"...Damn Ice-jin."  
  
Reita's smile was benign. "Hmmm. Why don't we sit here and hate him together?"  
  
Vegeta didn't show it, but the little bit of humor was appreciated.---  
  
Nappa and Raditz were now arguing heatedly. Vegeta heard none of it.  
  
---Reclining on the couch and listening to the splatter of hail on the roof, high above all four of them. Raditz and Reita were very heatedly discussing something, and it amused Vegeta to see that their tempers were flaring. He enjoyed their company, enjoyed being here in unity----  
  
"Vegeta." Raditz' voice was hoarse. The prince looked up, glaring.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Vegeta," Raditz repeated.  
  
"Raditz," Vegeta said impatiently. "I just survived my first mission. I think I'm fully capable of remembering my own name."  
  
"No," Raditz choked, "look."  
  
"We found her," Nappa said grimly.  
  
Vegeta was speechless.  
  
He wasn't sure what to say or do. Habit told him to make fun of the situation. Instinct told him this was dead serious.  
  
Reita looked like hell. There were no other words to describe her appearance. Her face was battered and a sickly pallor; blood stained areas of clothing that looked like they'd been thrown on. The man standing behind her was the only thing keeping Reita upright.  
  
"Vegeta," she managed, and her eyes were terror personified. They glinted under a brazen light, pleading with him to do something.  
  
She helped you, the situation screamed.  
  
pThe Saiya-jin prince grimaced at the scent of blood. And helplessness.  
  
She took you in,the prince's mind gibbered. When even Nappa and Raditz denied you access to all that is Saiya-jin, she didn't, he quailed. You'd be completely destroyed if not for her.  
  
Raditz watched her vanish.  
  
It clicked.  
  
"The medical supplies," he stated harshly. "They found out."  
  
"Do you mean to tell me," Vegeta inquired, furious, "that she's going to be sentanced to death because she stold medical supplies?"  
  
---For me?---  
  
Nappa shrugged helplessly. "Maybe it's bigger than we thought," he suggested.  
  
"Don't be absurd," Vegeta snapped instinctively.  
  
"I'm not," Nappa mumbled after his retreating prince.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Tequila tossed the apple core to the side, watching it hit the carpet. Too lazy to go pick it up, she leaned back, stretched, then turned an intense gaze upon Trunks. "Know you can't hear me, kid," Tequila stated ironically, "but just for your information: this is a major turning point."  
  
No response.  
  
"Reita had always been a fiesty little girl. Born in a low station on life's ladder, she wanted to badly to see the world. She still held out a bit of hope, even as a servant. And she's the reason your father closes up so much, folds in on himself."  
  
No response.  
  
Oh, yeah, I know you're seeing it. Reita was slaughtered. All over a bunch of medical supplies." Her mouth twisted to one side, seeing the morbid humor in that. "A huge blow for Vegeta. He still held out hope of seeing his parents, his native land once more, but that would soon be crushed. Maybe on instinct, he began shunning the company of people in general. Nappa and Raditz lost their significance. They became tools, assets that would help him achieve the goal he sought: ultimate power."  
  
Tequila's words echoed in the silent room. 


	8. Intimate Stranger

No more on Reita? Erm... I lied. Sorry, I couldn't reseist the entire "final farewell" gig. Taking you out of Trunks' mind for awhile and into the present.  
  
WARNING: this portion of the story is rated PG-13. There's nothing I'd consider graphic on it, the rating is just to be safe. Don't read if you're sensitive about the entire touchy-feely scenario. =) Don't own DBZ...blah, blah, blah.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Bulma stared out the window, watched as the sky continued raining, sobbing out its worries and troubles onto onto the shoulder of the earth, its lover. She sighed and shifted a bit, allowing her chin to rest on a clenched fist. Bulma had a deep affection for stormy, cloudy days such as this; she didn't see them as bothersome. She saw them as romantic.  
  
It would be much better if I actually had someone to share this romantic atmosphere with, she thought, glancing pointedly in the general direction of the gravity room. He'd be out soon, having broken the damn thing once more. throwing an all-out tantrum, she was certain.  
  
In fact... Bulma smirked. She glanced down at the newly-bought watch strapped around her wrist.  
  
Five...four...  
  
An explosion. A string of curse words spoken in a language she couldn't understand. Bulma remained calm, continued counting.  
  
...three...  
  
Another bang, another string of obscenities.  
  
Two...one...  
  
"WOMAN!!!"  
  
"I have a name, you know," she replied automatically. Vegeta appeared, looking non-too-pleased. A thin sheet of sweat coated what flesh was exposed; he hadn't begun training too long ago. Bulma ran laudatory eyes over her husband's features. Ageless, timeless, features. A Saiya-jin beauty. A rare, classical beauty from an era that was thought to be long dead.  
  
"I know you have a name," he growled, breathing coming out in short, ragged explosions, expression of his need for oxygen. His dark mood grew darker still when he asessed his mate: calm, fairly pleased, curled up on the couch in a fuzzy bathrobe, hair still damp from the shower, proof that she hadn't taken time to dry it properly.  
  
She looked content.  
  
Too content for the liking of the Saiya-jin prince.  
  
Vegeta grimaced, then repeated himself. "I know you have a name. I just don't feel like using it right now." Pause. The trademark smirk.  
  
"The gravity room's broken. Fix it."  
  
Bulma kept her temper under control, fighting the urge to twist his words in some way and fling them straight back into his smirking face. She watched as her husband strolled up to the low coffee table situated directly in front of her and helped himself to her glass of water. Bulma knew full well that he probably wasn't thirsty; he had need for dominance, and placing her food and drink at his own disposal was one way of showing it.  
  
It also caused her to become very, very annoyed.  
  
She watched him, keeping track of his every movement, her anger fading away as she noticed how he carried himself with such haughtiness. As though he knew he was powerful and beautiful in one, deadly and metrical combined. Bulma's gaze strayed over his face, over the prominent forehead and nosebride-  
  
Then stopped at the nosebridge.  
  
It was there, all she had to do was look closely at it. The skin shifted very subtly from a rich shade of tan to something both silver and gray. It was a scar; it barely existed, could barely be seen. She'd certainly never noticed it, and Bulma was the person Vegeta held most intimately, regarded in the dearest of fashions.  
  
Though I sometimes doubt it, what with that crap he seems to enjoy putting me through.  
  
Vegeta had seated himself beside her and seemed content to relax. Bulma edged closer, closer, closer. She finally reached him, and when her hand began to move along his leg, to trace the contours of lower thigh, he didn't seem to notice. It got the Almighty Vegeta's attention, however, when Bulma thrust herself against his chest, thrust herself into an embrace as his arms instintively folded around her.  
  
She felt his hand come down and land on her collar bone. He seemed to have such a fascination for that particular part of her anatomy, and she sat stone-still as he ran his fingers over the exposed flesh that covered bone. Gasped when his lips closed around her neck and gave a gentle, playfull nip. She pulled away, smiling.  
  
They sat, staring at one another for a moment, the hungry look completely unquestionable in a pair of azure eyes, locked with orbs of sheer ebony. Bulma finally broke the trance when she reached and ran both hands over either side of Vegeta's cheeks, running her fingers facilely over the chiseled visage, then replacing her fingers with her lips, which strayed willy-nilly over her husband's face. She hesitated for a moment, hovering just over the forehead. A lifetime of hurt, humiliation and agony screamed through her, injecting itself into her veins, all due to locking eyes with him.  
  
Finally, she moved downwards and placed a tentative kiss on his nosebridge, directly where the scar lay. She felt Vegeta tense; Bulma had struck a nerve.  
  
"I wish you'd tell me," she whispered fiercely, burying her face into his neck. "I wish I could know everything about you. You're my husband."  
  
The Saiya-jin prince pulled away in an almost hurried manner. "I'll tell you what I want to tell you, nothing more."  
  
Bulma felt rage begin to surface, and this time didn't try to stop it. "You're always hiding things!" she fumed. "How am I supposed to know you?" a long, drawn out silence followed the question. Bulma lowered her voice, fearing Trunks might hear. "How is your son supposed to know you? He doesn't even understand the basics that make you who you are. The basics that I had to struggle to figure out, that you should have been able to tell me easily!"  
  
Vegeta stood still, memory slamming him like a wave against some distant shore.  
  
Once, long ago, a frightened little boy had been beaten half to death by an evil tyrant, beaten on a cold, lonely planet far from his own. Vegeta recalled the savage bite of the iron bar, making its mark on his nosebridge.  
  
He recalled a young halfling who called herself Reita brushing her lips against the swathe of bandages used to dress the wound, making him laugh.  
  
Ridicule. Torment.  
  
Loss. Letting go.  
  
Humiliation. Fear.  
  
Rage. Anger.  
  
All basic elements.  
  
Vegeta turned and left the room, leaving his wife behind, a woman who didn't know just how ironic her last statement had been.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Frieza's Ship  
  
The final lash fell, and Vegeta was gasping for air, trying not to scream. The only thing he was really thankful for was that this wasn't being done in public. The manacles around his wrist were (seemingly) becoming tighter and tigher, and the alien metting out his punishment seemed the most evil, twisted and infinitely depraved being in the universe.  
  
Teeth clenched against the agony as the manacles slid from his flesh, and he was hauled upwards, half-blinded by rage and the blood leaking into his eyes. His back was a seething mass of lash-marks; the scars would fade in time; he was a Saiya-jin. But the fury of the moment would not.  
  
Punished. Again.  
  
For being impertinent in the prescence of the Great Lord Frieza.  
  
Shirtless, he staggered from the room and towards his own quarters. Gasped in agony when his back made contact with the mattress. Didn't really care that the sheets were being stained an angry red.  
  
Vegeta looked up at the ceiling. Stark, like everything else around the place. So damn empty.  
  
But he took succor from the treatment. It reminded him that he would pay Frieza back for every blow, every little, trivial, iunintended/i humiliation and offence.  
  
As he turned, something flickered in the back of his mind.  
  
You spend all your time talking about it. Dreaming of it. It's going to kill you if you don't do it.  
  
Rebellion.  
  
Against Frieza.  
  
Escape this life, escape this torture. His parents were dead. Reita was gone. Nappa and Raditz no longer mattered. His planet?  
  
He scoffed.  
  
Destroyed.  
  
He had nothing left to lose.  
  
Is that really true? A small, silent voice asked him.  
  
I don't know,he replied, eyes locked on the stars that hung suspended just outside of his window. Looking at the bareness and frigid atmosphere of space itself, a vast longing filled him, as though all the freedom of the universe dangled just out of his reach.  
  
It does, he thought blandly. It does.  
  
The thought hung in midair.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Trunks recieved a very rude awakening when somebody decided to flick his own half-eaten apple (from two days ago) at him. He felt drowsy, as though he'd been fast asleep for quite some time.  
  
But Tequila knew better. There was a huge difference between "trance" and "sleep", waking up was the only thing that really felt the same. The immortal gathered Mr. Bear in her hand and aimed, poised to throw. Trunks finally sat up, clutching his most likely aching head with one hand and using the other to wave Tequila away.  
  
"Throw the bear and die," he snarled. "Breath a word about the bear -to anyone- and die."  
  
Tequila leered at him before tossing Mr. Bear aside. Her expression softened when she noted the shock that began to set in, showing itself ever so vaguely around Trunks' eyes, in the set of his jaw. A pang of sympathy struck her, this scandalmonger of the mortal world. Trunks must have noticed, because he quickly put on an even more pitiful expression, watching coldly as Tequila's facial features went form pity to remorse.  
  
There. Let her feel sorry for me. It's the least I deserve,/i he thought stubbornly.  
  
But somewhere, deep down inside, he was grateful to her.  
  
"All right, Trunks. Five minutes left before I gotta go. Hang in there, kid."  
  
A flash of blinding, burnished light. Trunks squinted against the blaze, drew back from the intense heat. And suddenly, he was standing under a starry sky, somewhere outdoors. A giant fire danced before his eyes, and on the other side of the flames stood a young woman, clad in simple burlap robes, blonde hair becoming one with the inferno.  
  
Tequila.  
  
No, make that "Tequila."  
  
"You lied to me," Trunks stated baldly. "Who are you?"  
  
She shook her head in an almost melancholy manner. "I've given you bits and pieces about myself, Trunks. The Powers That Be forbid me to enlighten you entirely. Now just sit back."  
  
He did.  
  
"Trunks, I've taken you through a course of several years in your father's young life. It wasn't everything, and considering all the fact it was pretty vague. But now, you have fragments to have, hold, and piece together. You've seen the major influences in his life; his parents, who brought him into this world and gave him the foundations of strength, Frieza, who taught him ruthlesness. Raditz, who encouraged the survival instinct within him. Reita, who half-raised him, and shaped the way he treats you and views younglings in general.  
  
"Vegeta was changed, altered. He went from being a young, slightly naive child to the ultimate survivor. Love, affection- these things never, ever left him. He just locked them away, supressed them." Tequila gave a wan smile. "Your mother opened the gateways once more. She struggled to, and is still grappling with the inner demons Vegeta is too afraid to face himself. But in the end, she will succeed. Bulma loves him, loves you, and that is completely undeniable. Now, watch."  
  
Something appeared in the dancing flames, filling Trunks' entire range of vision. The now-familiar and now much-hated iron rod surfaced, tongues of fire falling away from it; Excalibur rising from the lake. It stood tall for just a moment, before it was snapped straight in half, the two halves vanishing into ashes. Tequila's voice cut through the dull roar of the fire.  
  
"Vegeta eventually broke the hold Frieza had over him. But not entirely. To this day, he is still poisoned with hatred. And who can blame him? He was snatched from his home, forced to kill for the being that destroyed his race, his parents. He was beaten, ridiculed, humiliated time and time again, because he was the son of Frieza's hated enemy."  
  
*flash*  
  
A quiet, dimly-lit room. Bulma leaning over a cradle, crooning to the infant beneath. Vegeta watched from the doorway, a hundred million emotions surging through him.  
  
Pride, shame, love, coldness. Each feeling contradicted the other.  
  
"When you were born," Tequila continued, he had no idea what to do with you. It put him in a position of uncertainty and helplnessness, a position he'd sworn never to assume again. His Saiya-jin instincts towards children clashed with everything Reita had told him. So, he settled for a safe medium; a harsh combination, a brutal way of raising a child, but it was all he knew."  
  
Trunks found himself standing before a long, winding road of pure ivory. The road split into a million different routes at the end, and the half Saiyan found himself forced to walk forwards. His vision was obscured, however, just before his feet decided which fork he should take.  
  
The future is truly uncertain, Tequila said, her voice blurry and distorted in his head. But it is a path we must take. I've granted you liberty by shackling you to these memories of your father's. And, I must admit, it is only now that I see these recollections will play a larger part in your life, youngster.  
  
Her voice began to fade, as did the fire, slowly becoming less and less until it burned into nothingness. Trunks held onto Tequila's voice, trying to make out exactly what she was telling him even as the sound became more and more vague.  
  
...I'm...not...fortune teller...but...can't tell anyone...about...dangerous. If you absolutely need to talk, talk to your father...but not til..."  
  
Suddenly, the remaining ashes flared, spitting out a light and heat a million times more intense than that of the fire itself. Tequila's voice vanished, and Trunks cried out as a sense of fulfillment and finality enveloped him. He was falling once more.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Trunks? Hey, are you awake in there?"  
  
Bulma entered his room without knocking, finding Trunks splayed on his side, fast asleep on rumpled bedsheets. A motherly, indulgent smile broke over her face, and she seated herself at the edge of her son's mattress, running a cool hand over his brow. The smile changed atmosphere, becoming one of sympathy, empathy, and pity all in one.  
  
"Oh Trunks. If only your father wasn't as bullheaded as he is..." she sighed and rose, bending down to pick up the items of trash, and the few comic books, disposing of the former and putting the latter in a neat pile in the corner.  
  
Bulma paused when she stumbled over Mr. Bear, lying forgotten on the floor. She picked up the stuffed animal, muttering something about Trunks and tidiness. Mr. Bear went back up on the shelf, a silent witness to the strange visitor that had come and gone.  
  
The door shut, and Trunks opened his eyes once more.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Vegeta marvelled at how he'd broken the gravity room *again* and *again* come out uninjured. Bulma inspected mechanics of the chamber that was a contraption in her eyes, mumbling something. She straightened, giving Vegeta the fish eye.  
  
"There. It's fixed. I won't bother wasting my time if you break it again."  
  
She turned as if to leave, but instead wheeled around and seized her husband's lips with her's. Vegeta's first reaction was to draw away, but he quickly leaned into the gesture, wrapping Bulma up in his arms. The position felt so familiar, so natural that he was loathe to break it too soon.  
  
So they stood like that for the longest of time, together in silent reconciliation and indication of deepest of loves.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Piccolo: *glances over SS's shoulder and stares at the screen* Jeez, you gotta talent for writing the sappy.  
  
StrangeSolstice: It's my story. I was actually planning on doing something that involved Vegeta joining the Sailor Scouts, but that didn't work out right.  
  
Piccolo: ...  
  
Chapter Nine coming soon. =) 


	9. Somtimes it Rains

The Grand Finale. =) I don't own DBZ, none of the characters here are mine, don't sue cause if you do I swear I'll go insane, and trust me, you don't want that to happen.  
  
*crickets*  
  
...um...I don't own the lyrics, either. No money being made here. Enjoy!  
  
"Sitting on the front porch swing,  
  
Listening to the light rain,  
  
Beating on the tin roof,  
  
Baby just me and you,  
  
Rocking with the rythm of the rain..."  
  
-The Judds "Rocking With the Rythm of the Rain"  
  
Bulma was loving this. The woman was practically purring in her husband's arms, rain pattering outside the window, the TV turned down, its soft colors washing both her Vegeta's and her face with rainbows. She tuned out the televsion set for just a moment, turning to concentrate on the man who drove her insane with rage, who made her crazy with love, who took her sanity away, period.  
  
She loved him.  
  
"Slide on over,  
  
Baby, hold me closer,  
  
Moving to and fro,  
  
Just swaying like a slow freight train,  
  
Rocking with the rythm of the rain..."  
  
The simplicity of this single moment was breathtaking. Days like these ones were few and far between, rare, to say the least. Bulma's mind screamed in hesitation, but she ignored it, brazenly reaching out to brush the scar that covered Vegeta's nosebridge.  
  
"So. Tell me how you got that."  
  
"Long story," he purred softly into her ear. "I might tell you later tonight."  
  
Bulma grinned wickedly at the subtle innuendo the Saiya-jin prince presented her with. She shifted aside as he got off the couch, and watched expectantly as he made his way to the kitchen. The metabolism of his race refused to let him go for too long without food, and Bulma knew that firsthand. She wondered if he'd be able to find the various tidbits of fingerfood and snacks she thought she'd hidden well enough, then settled in for the next show.  
  
Vegeta was startled when he found he wasn't the only one in the kitchen. Trunks had padded in from behind him on silent feet. The demi Saiya-jin opened an overhead cabinet and pulled out an assortment of junk food. Vegeta stared.  
  
"How did you know where the woman keeps everything?"  
  
"Easy," came the smooth reply. "I offered to do the groceries for her this week."  
  
"So let the breeze keep blowing,"  
  
(Rocking with the rythm of the rain that's falling)  
  
(Night birds a-singing the crickets are a-calling)  
  
Oh my heart will never be the same,  
  
So keep the sweet feeling flowing..."  
  
Vegeta smirked, then pulled up a seat beside his son, both proceeding to stuff themselves with unhealthy, steeped-in-processed-chemical food. Trunks shot a sideways glance at his father.  
  
Shadow creature. Illusive shadow creature that loves me. That loves my mother.  
  
Vegeta polished off one bag of chips, then helped himself to the marhsmallows that Trunks was devouring with frightening speed. "Listen, Brat. That...sitting place you've got isn't too bad." It sounded as though these words were the most difficult thing Vegeta had ever spoken in his entire life.  
  
It took awhile for Trunks' frazzled mind to process what the Saiya-jin prince meant. His mind flashed back to awhile ago, to Vegeta, seating himself beside his son, saying absolutely nothing.  
  
"...slide on over,  
  
baby hold me closer,  
  
Moving to and fro  
  
Just swaying like a slow frieght train,  
  
Rocking with the rythm of the rain..."  
  
"It's not, is it?" Trunks inquired, sounding rather pleased with himself. Silence followed.  
  
And continued. Not the kind of tense, hostile silence Trunks was used to from his father, but a lazy, amicable sort of quiet.  
  
Vegeta eyed his son's side profile, and for a moment, wondered.  
  
So hard to understand. I'll probably never know the Brat, he mused ruefully.  
  
Trunks smiled.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I'm fully aware that the song I used was more on the romantic side of things. I'm also aware that his is a father/son story. For those of you who've never heard it, I just needed something that sounded lazier in rythm/beat, and a tad more laid-back.  
  
This story will be extended on/continued in another fic I've got coming up. Just hang on a sec pleez. *grins*  
  
Hope you enjoyed it! Pls. read and review. 


End file.
